


Haunted

by HeyBoy, Red_is_not_my_colour



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, WinterHawk Big Bang, ghost!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_is_not_my_colour/pseuds/Red_is_not_my_colour
Summary: “ In the middle of the living room, the Soldier assessed its attacker and swiftly threw knives at him.“Duuude! Stop that! That’s just rude!” the man yelled before continuing in a whiny tone “I cannot believe the first guy I see in ages is such a jerk!”The Winter Soldier escapes from Hydra and seeks refuge in an abandoned farm lost in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, it is not as abandoned as he thought it was and he quickly discovers that he has to share the space with a ghost who has troubles dealing with loneliness. Fortunately, the ghost is rather friendly and is willing to help the soldier.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59
Collections: Winterhawk Big Bang 2020





	Haunted

The Soldier arrived at the top of the hill and descried the farm about 1700 feet away from it. Miles and miles away from any trace of other living being, the building looked old and abandoned.

The Asset was drained. It needed to rest. The farm could provide a protection against the biting cold and the pouring rain. The Soldier decided to stay there for a few hours to recover its strength.

At this time, the Soldier’s whole body was too exhausted to be optimally functional and it already noticed 78 minutes ago that its focus was drifting away. Forty-six minutes ago, it almost did not spot a car driven on the otherwise deserted road and reacted only when it was 650 feet away from it. The Asset only had the time to jump in a bush next to the road before disappearing in the nearby forest.

The driver almost saw it. This kind of mistakes was unforgivable.

Every fiber of its being knew that the command would not forgive it, anyway.

Somewhere deep in what was left of its mind, the Soldier knew that less valuable assets have disappeared after such errors. The Hierarchy did not appreciate spending resources on faulty soldiers.

A more lucid part of the Soldier’s consciousness knew that it should not think about its handlers, or anything related to any mission. When it did so, it tended to stop moving forward and its body more or less tried to go back to the closest base in the area by itself. Fifteen hours and 46 minutes ago, the soldier had to stop walking and stand still for three hours at a crossroad because a sign reminded it of the handlers’ words.

But the Asset would not go back to the base. Somehow, it did not _want_ to. So it _decided_ that it would run away.

It was too late now anyway. The Soldier had deserted. If it ever came back – or if someone found it- the Asset would be erased and reconditioned until it was loyal again.

The Soldier did not want to be loyal again. It was _wrong_. And it hurt. A lot.

The Asset did not want to be wrong, nor to hurt. But it was hurting now.

The wound on its left side felt hot. It was a strange contrast with the rest of its body that was freezing. It was also shivering for more than 2.35 hours and felt like it was feverish.

That was unusual. Normally, the serum should have taken care of its injuries days ago and its wound should at least be sane. Yet, its feebleness probably retarded its recovery time and made it more prone to develop infections.

These were bad news. 

If the Soldier’s calculations were right, it escaped 232 hours ago – almost 10 days. Since then, it followed an erratic path to lose the agents who were most certainly looking for it and did not stop more than a few minutes in a row when it had to steal some kind of sustenance. 

The Soldier knew it could not cease its race against its pursuers. The punishment would be too hard. Too painful.

But its body was at the verge of breaking now and fainting in the woods would just leave it exposed to any danger around. 

According to its estimations, the Soldier would collapse from inanition, cold, and exhaustion in less than 50 minutes at this point. The abandoned farm was its best unhoped-for option to regain strengths before continuing its road. 

It was the most logical decision.

Fighting its repulse to stop its flight, the Asset moved toward the farm and hid in the shadows behind the barn that was standing 65 feet from the house. It took its time to ensure that there was no trap nor agents ready to capture it again. Once it was certain that the perimeter was secure, it climbed the stairs leading to the front door and easily picked the lock.

Once it was inside, the Soldier methodically looked around the house. Past the hallway, there was one living room and one kitchen on the first floor. A door next to the stairs was locked, surely leading to the basement. On the second floor, there were three bedrooms and one bathroom. The top floor was an attic full of old furniture and material. There was no electricity, but the water was still running. The shower was leaking. Yet, the drops of water dripping in an irregular pace stopped after the Soldier closed the tap with its metal arm. The rust surely damaged the pipes, but it was not an issue that its brutal force could not solve.

An unnerving leak of wind was blowing in the house, most probably coming from the old chimney in the living room. This also had to be the origin of the unusual chill that reigned there. The Soldier hoped that it would not be as sensitive low temperature once it would be well-rested.

The entire house was dusty and smelt like rot. No recent trace of human presence could be detected, which reassured the Soldier. More useful, the farm looked like its former occupant planned on coming back one day and was left in its original state, meaning that useful material could be retrieved from the place. The Asset found an old shotgun with ammunitions in the living room and a set of sharp knives in the kitchen. Most rooms were messy, with clothes and dirty dishes everywhere. Empty whiskey bottles could be found all over the place.

The Soldier settled to drink some water from bottles it found in one of the kitchen cupboards – it tried to wait for the tap water to become clear for a while, but it stayed obtusely black for 8.3 minutes. 

In the end, 34 minutes after passing the front door, the Asset lied down on the couch in the living room and closed its eyes.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Someone was in the room.

The certitude woke the Soldier up 3.2 hours after it fell asleep.

No. Not someone.

The Asset could not feel any sign of a presence. Neither smell of sweat nor gunpowder. No noise of moving fabric nor steps. No heartbeat. No breathing.

Without changing its respiration and keeping its heartbeat low, the Soldier pretended to continue sleeping and tried to analyze its surroundings.

Something was off.

_Something_ was here.

And something was observing it.

_Something_ cleared its throat before taking a deep breath.

The Soldier tensed and waited for an opportunity.

“Okay… So… Oooooooooo……AAAAH!!!”

Ignoring the pain the movement caused to its wound, the Asset’s body reacted almost by itself as it seized the knife hidden in its right sleeve, swiftly crossed the 1.78 feet separating it from its enemy and separated the man’s head from his body.

Or tried to.

“Shucks dude! That’s not cool! Not cool at all! You don’t jump at people throat like that! I was just trying to scare you, geee! No need to react like that!”

In the middle of the living room, the Soldier assessed its attacker, jumped back out of arm’s reach and quickly threw knives at him.

Six knives.

The Soldier’s shots were all precise. Deadly.

The first two went directly to the man’s heart. Then, the Asset threw two other ones to his throat before finally bringing itself to aim at his eyes.

Each projectile reached its target.

Yet, the all passed through it, letting the man standing up and looking more and more annoyed.

“Duuude! Stop that! That’s just rude!”, the man yelled before continuing in a whiny tone “I cannot believe the first guy I see in _ages_ is such a jerk!”

“Who are you? Who are you working for?”, the Asset inquired in its coldest timbre.

“Okidokey, so I guess you’re _really_ a jerk. Man, you cannot show up at someone’s place uninvited and just behave like that! That’s not what people do!”

The Asset readied for parade and observed its opponent, waiting for him to move first. It was useless to attack while not knowing his weaknesses.

Now that the Soldier was looking at him, the man did not look like its usual targets. He was whitish and translucid. He was tall, but appeared even taller as he was in fact floating a few inches above the ground.

This atypical condition maybe explained why the Soldier’s weapon passed through the man without hurting him.

“Okay dude, calm down… Hmm… So as you’re in my house and I don’t know who the hell you are, you could maybe start the conversation by introducing yourself before throwing stuffs at me? I mean, I’ve already been told that I’m irritating, but come on!”, the transparent man continued after realizing that the Asset would not relax its pose.

“Who are you and who are you working for?”, the Soldier repeated blankly.

“Oh wow! You’re a though case, ain’t you? Okay, so you can call me the amazing Haw… Haw…Hawww… Crap! Huu… C..C… Clinton! Yey! Clinton! You can call me Clinton, or you know, you can shorten the name and call me C… C… any shortened version of Clinton you want to use. Damn! It’s so frustrating!”

The man was obviously struggling with his words and could not provide his identity. It did not matter. The Soldier had no intention of taking his words for granted anyway.

“Who do you work for?”

“I am an Av… Av... Well, I guess it doesn’t matter anyway as I uh… am not anymore now I suppose? I… must be retired now in fact, as I am kind of deceased, you see.”, Clinton admitted in observing his milky translucid hand with an embarrassed look.

“You are deceased?”, the Soldier asked sternly.

“I…guess so?”

“If you are dead, how is it possible that you are talking to me?”

“Well… I think I am a ghost? Kind of?”

“A ghost. Really? It does not seem so credible”, the Asset stated flatly.

“Yeah I know, but do you have another explanation for that?!”, asked Clinton in passing his hand through the couch.

“I would rather say that you are some kind of hallucination. Maybe the handlers implanted you in my brain so that you can convince me to come back to the base. Or maybe you are just designed to torture me when I go rogue”, the Soldier muttered for itself in relaxing its pose. It would not be the weirdest thing that had happened to it.

“Oh wow! First of all, rude man! Rude! Some kind of torture really?! I was merely joking, and it didn’t seem to bother you that much before you suddenly jumped at my throat! And second: what the hell?! Going back to the base? Handler? Rogue? Who are you?”

“Joking?” the Asset inquired icily.

“Yeah, joking. Doing ghostly things. Freezing rooms, blowing wind, making noises, darkening the water, nothing too annoying… You didn’t even notice when the parquet cracked earlier! And I spent days trying to nail that effect!”

“It… is an old house. It is humid. It makes noises. There is nothing supernatural in it.”

“Yeah, well, I guess there is at least one supernatural thing here and it’s me! Also, I’m not a thing, or a hallucination, I’m a person. Thank you very much.” Now, Clinton looked vexed.

The Soldier did not understand why the command would have cursed it with such a childish hallucination.

“You could also be a delusion, created by the fever. I think the infection is spreading.”

“The infection?” The man’s eyes widened as he looked at the Soldier, as if he were looking for its injuries. The Asset stayed perfectly still. Another mistake on the list. It should not have admitted its weakness.

“And don’t think I’m not realizing how you’re dodging my questions! Now it’s your turn! Who are you?”, the so-called ghost continued after he realized that the Soldier would not speak about its physical condition.

The Asset analyzed the translucid form floating in front of it more closely. Clinton did not look threatening, but it had already met kids able to murder dozens of targets without breaking their cover. There was no way it would reveal its identity to the strange being. The Asset had to go. It had been seen. Clinton could notify anyone of its presence here. It was not secure anymore.

The Asset turned its back to the man and headed toward the door, intending to leave the weird house without a word. The world outside was dark – it estimated that it was 3.34 am.- and the rain that was still pouring outside turned the ground into a huge puddle.

“Nooo! Don’t leave! You can’t go away already!”, Clinton pleaded as the Soldier passed the threshold.

Moved by an unprecedented impulse, it turned back to face the ghost.

“Why should I stay?”, it asked sternly while trying to hide a sudden rush of anger. “Do you want to rat me to _your_ handlers? You want to kill me in my sleep? You want intel? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”, the man was shouting now. “I told you, I’m a ghost! I literally cannot hurt you! I just… you don’t look so good and I… I didn’t see anyone for _so long_!”, Clinton’s voice turned into a plea.

“Okay, waking you up wasn’t nice and I promise I won’t do it again, but I’m getting stir crazy here all alone man! You could stay for a bit and maybe have some shut eye and eat something, and keep me company for a while? I won’t retain you for long, but a few hours maybe? Please”

Please. The man had said please.

For some obscure reason, this simple word disconcerted the soldier. Its rage was forgotten, replaced by the memory of other people – so _many_ other people –asking for mercy. Again, and again.

The Asset made sure to regain its composure before speaking again.

It could not stay silent. It had to leave, but it also needed to explain why.

“People will come after me. Troubles follow me. If I stay, they will find me.”

“Who? Who the hell are you running from?”

“Dangerous people.” The Asset voice was only a murmur and sound of the beating rain should have drowned its words. Yet, the man seemed to understand it.

“Okay… But how did you come here at all? Could they track you?”

“I stole a car. A few cars in fact. Kept them for a while and ditched them when I could. And then I walked.”

Clinton looked outside as if he could see anything through the dark of the night.

“Where did you let your last car?”

“In Waverly.”

“Gosh! It’s six hours away from here! You must be dead on your feet!”

The Soldier walked for 4.12 hours before arriving at the farm, but it felt foolish to expose its enhanced resistance to the stranger, so it just nodded in approval.

“It’s no wonder you’re exhausted! Shucks, I’m sorry I annoyed you. Really. I was trying to be funny and fulfill my ghostly duty… But yeah, sorry. Gosh, you didn’t even take your boots off and you’re still damp. I didn’t think about it twice before… You’re covered in mud! Listen, the water has already covered your tracks, no one will know you went here!”

“Just come, there must be an emergency electricity supply downstairs”, Clinton indicated in pointing the door leading to the basement, “just turn it on, and you’ll be able to take a warm shower. I’ll show you where to find clean clothes and where the nonperishable food is stashed too. It’s not a lot, but I guess instant noodle would be alright for now? And there must be something to take care of your fever too, if you feel sick. Please…”

This damn word, again. Clinton looked so hopeful when he uttered it… And the night behind the Soldier was so cold and so dark that it was almost physically painful to even thinking about going back to its endless flight. Clinton had a point, though. It was hurting so much and the room was starting to spin under its feet. It could not leave in this state. Not right now. In a few hours, sure, but not now.

The Asset closed the door and retrieved the knives that were still planted in the wall. Then, it followed the man through the house, as he kept his promises and showed it everything the Soldier needed to get comfortable. Clinton even turned fluorescent when they went to the basement and lightened the Soldier’s way to the electricity supply. It was hard to keep a blank face when the ghost was wandering around on its hands in babbling nonsenses and shining like a glow-worm, but the Asset estimated it did a good job at it.

The ghost guided then the Soldier it to one bedroom, where it found old worn out clothes in a drawer. It retrieved sweatpants, a red t-shirt and a warm blue sweater. They were not optimal but would do for a while.

The shower it took just after that was divine. The warm water on its skin felt like being born again and it had not realized the amount of blood and mud it was covered in before seeing it disappearing with the dirty water.

It was almost shocking to look at its naked wound now. It measured almost 5.92 inches and was red and swollen. The Asset disinfected it as it could with old alcohol it found in a first help kit in the bathroom and patched it up with a clean bandage. That had to be enough. Probably.

Once it was done, Clinton revealed it where pastas and noodles were hidden - “in the cupboard just behind you! No! the other one!”- and the Soldier ate its first hot meal since…longer than it could remember.

It was interesting to look at the man. He was tall and had short hair that seemed to be fluffy. Maybe because Clinton was always playing with it. He had freckles on his cheeks and had an expressive face.

The ghost was always in movement and did not seem to realize that he was passing through one furniture or another. Yet, he pretended to sit on a chair when the Soldier was eating and kept it company during its meal. Clinton somehow invocated a ghostly cup and drank slowly from it, looking at the mug as if he was conflicted.

“Go on. Ask your question.” The Soldier groaned. It was too tired to endure the anguish any longer.

“I thought you didn’t want to...? Okay, okay! No need to _glare_ at me! Just, I understand, you don’t want to tell me anything, but how can I call you?”

The Soldier thought about it for one second.

“You can call me Soldier.”

“Soldier?!”

“Or Soldat. Or the Asset, if you prefer.”

“The _Asset_?!”

“That’s how they called me.”

“I’m not going to call you _the Asset_! Gosh!”

“What is wrong? It is my name.” snapped the Soldier. The ghost was getting annoying with his questions.

“It’s not a name! It’s … a designation, but not a name!”

“How is that different?” The whole conversation was frustrating. It wished it did not open the door for it to happen.

“A name is supposed to be personal! It’s yours, not something shitty handlers call you by when they ask you to do something!” Clinton looked utterly distressed and stayed silent for a minute and a half.

“How would you like me to call you?” the ghost inquired with a soft tone, apparently unable to stay silent for long or to drop the subject - probably both.

The Soldier sighted extensively. Its head started hurting. A lot. It really did not want to converse about it anymore. Christ, it just wanted to sleep.

Yet, a name appeared at the surface of its mind. It was neither right nor perfect. But somehow, it seemed liked it fitted better than the Asset in the end.

“James. You can call me James.”

“James? Wow! _That_ is a cool name! Thank you _James_!” The ghost was now beaming, figuratively and literally. The fluorescence emanated from Clinton was really interesting, but when he noticed that he was radiating light, the man’s face fell, and the brilliance faded.

The man cleared his throat and looked embarrassed.

“Sorry for the noodles, you can imagine that it’s difficult for me to do groceries in my state. But these ones mustn’t be too bad, right?”

“It is nutritious.” the asset helped with a nod. “How is your beverage?” now, who said it could not be polite when it wanted to?

“I dunno. It’s a bit weird in fact”, the man said in showing the content of its cup to the Soldier. “I mean, there’s a liquid inside, and I can drink it. But it has no flavor, no texture and no temperature. I just drink it by force of habit I guess” the ghost added with a sad chuckle. “Gosh I miss coffee so much. It’s actually killing me.”

The Soldier did not know how to answer to this, even if it suspected that it was supposed to be a joke, if Clinton’s expectant face was any indication. Anyway, it was a lame joke.

For some reason though, it did not want the small smile to disappear from the other man’s face.

“Well, I would gladly give you a _hand_ with this. Unfortunately, I’m running short of these…”, it tried in taking off its sweater to show its metal limb.

“Oh wow! Gosh! You have a metal hand!”

“It appears so.”

“Wow! It looks so cool! Are you… You’re not some king of cyborg or anything, right?”

“I do not think so. I just have a metal arm. It is practical for everyday tasks, and more intense ones, too”

The ghost hummed with an embarrassed gaze and his smiled became somehow sadder, but more sincere. Not knowing what to add, the Soldier stood up and took away the dishes before heading upstairs, eager to get some rest.

It headed then toward one of the bedrooms as Clinton followed it and showed it were spare blankets were hidden – “so you won’t get cold this time!”

It was weird. Everything about this situation was weird. But the Soldier had nothing to lose and it was so exhausted. It only wanted to sleep. If its tac suit was drying while it rested and it could wear softer clothes for a moment, it was only a bonus.

The Soldier closed cautiously the door with the key it found in a drawer next to the bed, put one gun under its pillow and clenched one of its new knives in its fleshy fist before setting the blanket right.

Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds later, it picked up its boots back and laced them. The hell if it put mud in the bed, it refused to be caught bare feet.

The Soldier went back to its bed and closed its eyes, falling asleep in less than 18 seconds.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When the Soldier woke up, it was the afternoon.

Its internal clock signaled it it was already 3pm. It slept for eleven hours in a row.

It was both much more and much less than what it was used to. Now, its mind was much clearer and the events from the night before seemed totally irreal, drowned in a haze of past exhaustion. Ignoring the shivers that went through its body as it stood up, it swiftly stashed its weapons on itself and went downstairs to check if its tac suit was dry.

Well, at least it intended to.

As soon as it opened the door, a white smiling face appeared right in front of it.

“Jaaaames! You’re up! I was starting to get worried! You slept _a lot_. No link, but you really should stop trying to cut people’s throat as soon as you see them. I’m not sure it’s a proper way to say hello.”

The Soldier fought back for its composure for a few seconds and sheathed the knife it was holding against Clinton’s windpipe before realizing that no, yesterday’s events were not a dream and that yes, he was currently cohabitating with a ghost.

Weird.

Clinton, apparently unshaken by the situation, continued rambling. After a while, he turned to the Soldier and asked him directly:

“So! What’s the plan for today?”

“I have to go. I wasted enough time here.”

The ghost winced, but nodded in agreement. “Sure. Where are you going?”

“I do not know yet.”

“Oh geeze, I won’t tell _a soul_! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“I really do not know. I just need to go. Far away.”

Clinton’s eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Oh my, you’re serious then? You don’t have any safehouse or something?”

“Not really. My departure was not anticipated.”

“How is this possible?”

“I did not want to stay.”

The ghost scratched his head. “Okay, you know what James? We should first feed you and then we could look for a map or something, and figure out a plan. Alright?”

As if the perspective of another hot meal woke it up, the Soldier’s belly started growing, inciting a burst of laugh coming from Clinton, who ensured the Asset that timing was everything.

Another bowl of instant noodles later – that was actually delicious, all things considered- and once a map was retrieved from a pile of what it was told were useless papers in the living room, James envisaged for the first time what it would do in the future. Yet, it was difficult to think. The room started spinning around it and it felt at the verge of throwing up.

“James? You’re super pale suddenly… Are you alright?” the ghost asked with a hint of worry in his voice, before continuing “you said you had fever yesterday. Are you sick or something?”

“I am fine.”

“You don’t seem fine, buddy. Like not fine at all. What’s wrong?” Clinton’s voice was urgent now, and the soldier felt his face falling, unable to stay blank any longer.

“I think the wound is infected. It’s warm.”

“The wound?”

“Yeah. It is nothing serious. I will manage.”

“No no no! Don’t do that dude. Don’t start that shit with me, ‘cause I think you’re passing out and I can’t really help you in this form! Tell me what’s wrong!”

“My side. I am hurt. It will be alright. I just need some rest…” the soldier blurted out. Crap, it really was going to pass out in the kitchen now. “I need to lie down for a bit, that’s all.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s go to the living room and just lie on the sofa then. I don’t think you can take the stairs now.”

Following Clinton’s instructions, the Asset stumbled to the couch and more or less fell headfirst on it. The hell with the grace, it was too fucked up to care about its reputation now. It tried its best to breath slowly to push the nausea away.

Its traitorous body was violently shaking now, and it felt so cold. So damn cold. How could it even feel so cold?

“Hey, calm down. It’s alright” the ghost started with a soft voice. “Follow my voice, it’s alright. You’re safe and you’re gonna rest for a while. Breathe in and out, like that, shhhhh”

The Soldier looked up at the white face of the man who was hovering over his head. It could not really decipher the meaning of the words Clinton was repeating again and again anymore, but they were somehow soothing. Then, the ghost started to hum a sweet melody, and everything turned black.

It hurt.

It hurt so bad.

Everything hurt.

Why did everything hurt so much?

A rush of panic seized the Asset. Did the handlers find it? Did they did _that_ to it? The Soldier tried to stay still to avoid getting punished by the handlers. They did not like when it moved during the recalibration. Yet, it tried to open its eyes, just a bit. Instantly, the light worsened even more its headache and it could not stop the pathetic whine it emitted.

“Slow down dude! Breathe, breathe, it’s alright. They’re not here. No one did anything to you. Well, since yesterday at least. It’s just me, C…C…your ghost buddy” muttered a soft voice on its side.

“Clinton?”

“Yeah, that’s me”

A sudden wave of relief went through its whole body. It was safe. For now.

It had to go.

The Asset opened its eyes again and slowly sat down on the sofa. The room was not spinning anymore now but it felt dehydrated. Water. It needed water.

“Oh gosh. James, what the fuck? You’re bleeding!” Clinton shrieked.

Oh fuck. The wound must have reopened.

“Yeah, you’re bleeding out dude!”

And apparently it was talking out loud. Great. It was just _great_.

“Not bleeding out. It’s just a scratch” the soldier grunted at last.

“I really don’t think so! Let me see!” Clinton insisted, not bothered at all by its biting demeanor.

Reluctantly, James estimated that it had nothing to lose at this point and took its new t-shirt off and looked at the dressed wound.

Crap.

There was blood everywhere on its torso.

Holly bloody shit.

“Take that off. Now. Let me see. I’ve a little experience in first aid. I can help you” the man demanded, apparently unshaken by the blood.

Moved by an old survival instinct or maybe years- or even decades, who knew? - of habit to obey to orders, the Soldier complied and showed its injury to the ghost, who observed it for 17 seconds before speaking again.

“Alright. So, it’s inflamed, but there’s no pus. The cut is clean, but it’s too large to leave it like that. You need to go to the hospital.” Clinton’s tone was soft but serious, not leaving place to any discussion.

“I can’t. They would find me” the Soldier stated with a frustrated growl.

“You must have a generalized infection at this stage. I won’t lie, it’s not good. You need to get this fever down, and antibiotics. A fuckton of antibiotics, to be precise.” the ghost retorted.

“You have no bloody idea what they’d do to me if they find me dude!” the Soldier shouted. “It would be much worse than a little fever!”

“It is not a little fever. James, look at me! You must have a septicemia now! You can worry about your mysterious handlers once you’re not dying anymore!”

“I am _not_ dying. I am not that easy to take down.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” Clinton commented with sarcasm “’cause you were pretending to be just fine two hours ago, you know? Just before passing out on my couch!”

“Shut up!” the soldier snarled. Christ, the man was so irritating.

“I won’t let you die here!”

“I won’t die Clinton! I just need to rest enough to let the serum do its job! Stop freaking out for nothing!”

These words finally stopped the man from babbling. For 3.4 glorious seconds, at least.

“The serum?”

“Yeah. The serum.”

“Like… The Serum? Like Ca…Ca… Like… Are you some kind of super person or something?”

The Asset got up and slowly headed toward the kitchen to get some water. He was so thirsty….

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! Are you an enhanced person or not? ‘Cause it changes the situation, you know!” Clinton yelled while following him around like a puppy.

“How so?” the Asset barked.

“Well, first of all the medical assistance is not exactly the same when you have to save an enhanced person, just saying” the ghost added in passing through the table that was in his way without realizing it, not fazed at all by the Asset’s aggressivity. James sighted loudly to express its annoyance. He was too tired to deal calmly with an overprotective deceased guy, apparently.

“Alright. Yes. I am an enhanced.”

“How enhanced?”

“Very.”

“Very?”

Amazing. Everything was so fucking _fantastic_. James sighted loudly again as he understood that he had to choose between divulging its most important secret or have a few seconds of quiet.

“They called me a super soldier.”

“Great. That’s great!” the ghost exclaimed, starting to shine a bit with a relieved face that quickly turned expectant.

The Assed sighted again and drank 0.8 liters of water directly from the bottle. This guy was just impossible.

“I am strong, alright? And I heal quickly. I just need to sleep one night every other week, or my body starts dysfunctionning. As it is now. I just need some rest, and everything is gonna be fine.”

“Are you sure about it?”

“I’m positive.”

“okidoki…Let’s clean your wound then, and we’re gonna get you comfy and warm for a while then. Do you think you can go to the bathroom upstairs now? There’s stuff to take care of this.” the ghost enjoined in pointing the Asset’s bloody bandages.

“I should make it, yeah.” James answered sarcastically.

Clinton just smiled reassuringly then, and stayed just a few inches from him as they went to the bathroom. He even stayed blissfully quiet as the Soldier cleaned and patched its wound.

After that, he made sure that the Soldier took blankets downstairs with him before it settled itself comfortably on the sofa. The ghost also explained it how to turn on the TV and floated beside it as it slowly dozed off in front of ridiculous cartoons. The Soldier could feel the cold that was emanating from Clinton, as he sat so close from him. It felt…. Nice? Maybe it was soothing his fever….

At some point, the Soldier turned off the tv and lied down to sleep, not caring about the other’s man presence anymore.

He felt good. Peaceful, for the first time in years.

The Soldier woke up screaming in a confused haze. Everything smelt like gunpowder. And blood.

Instantly, a wave of freshness went through his torso as Clinton rushed to his side and passed through him. The incongruity of the situation brought James back to the reality, and its shout finally died.

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

Thank fuck.

The Asset passed his metal hand on his face, before his captors informed him it was wet. Why was it wet?

Did he cry?

Besides him, Clinton was a silent milky form, but his whole body expressed worry and concern. Fuck.

James opened his mouth to speak and realized that he could not. Words felt useless. They were just stuck in his throat.

“Hey, it’s alright. It happens. Shit, it happened to me all the time, before. Don’t worry, it’s fine” the ghost muttered as he was recovering a human shape. It’s not real. It’s just a bad dream.”

The Asset nodded as he could, and tried to lie back down. He didn’t want to go back to sleep.

“You need some rest, James. Please, close your eyes. It’s gonna be fine.” Clinton assured, as if he was really understanding the Soldier’s reticence. 

But the shadows around were too deep, and the night felt suddenly oh so scary.

What a disaster.

“Please…Stay with me?” the terrible Winter Soldier asked the ghost in a whisper.

“Of course, as long as you want me to.” Clinton assured him with reassurance. “I’m just here, I’m with you”.

The Asset couldn’t decently tell the man he didn’t want him to leave at all, so he just lied down and closed his eyes, focusing on the coolness that the ghost emanated.

After 5.7 minutes, Clinton started to hum something that sounded awfully like a lullaby, and 13 seconds after that, everything became dark again.

The rain was falling again. The uninterrupted noise was hypnotizing, as if it was part of a dream.

When James finally woke up, nothing verily felt real. And yet, he could see Clinton’s body half traversed by his covers, looking at him with worry.

“Hey sleeping beauty. How do you feel?” the man wondered as the Soldier sat.

“I’m fine.” He answered slowly while peeking a look at his wound. It was almost healed now.

“Fine?”

“I don’t feel any fever anymore. And the wound is closing now.”

“Fantastic!” Clinton beamed way too loudly, before calming down almost immediately as the Soldier winced. “But I have to ask you now… What happened?”

“I got hurt.”

The ghost rolled his eyes. “I could have guessed that, thanks.”

James sighted morosely. He didn’t want to think about his escape.

“The people I work for… or worked for, I guess… They aren’t that easy to leave behind.”

“They did that to you?”

The Soldier nodded and stood up, heading for the bathroom. He needed to pee.

When he came back, Clinton looked wary and hesitant.

“I need to go” said the Soldier to break the tension. “I can’t stay any longer.”

“You can’t run away forever. You need to find a safe place, somewhere to stay”

“That is impossible. These people are going to come after me, no matter where I go. They are everywhere. If I want to escape, I have to totally disappear.”

“I see… And it’s not as if you were particularly inconspicuous. Don’t _glare_ at me like that! Dude, you have a metal arm! It’s not the most discrete accessory ever!”

With a surge of self-consciousness, the Soldier hid his hand in the pocket of his borrowed sweatpants.

“Luckily for you”, continued Clinton with an uncomfortable tone, “I have a bit of experience in disappearing. I used to work with shady people too at some point. I even think one or two of my safehouses should still be usable. Maybe more than that in fact. The closest is in Nebraska, I guess. But I had a few others, if you prefer.”

The ghost hovered to the forgotten map that was still on the coffee table and started pointing at it.

“There, there, there and…. There. This one in Nevada is the most secrete, but it’s further. But if you want to, going there must be worth a shot. You should find food, money, and a few weapons.”

“Do you have weapons here? I mean _real_ weapons.” The soldier inquired in drawing one of the knives he found in the kitchen.

“I don’t think so. Even the shotgun you found must be completely shitty. It wasn’t my house.”

“Whose house was it?”

“Family house… Long story, it’s not really interesting.”

Taking its clue to drop the topic, the Soldier looked at the map and started to picture a way to travel to Nevada. It was too far away to walk.

The Soldier passed a hand on his face. Getting weapons and money could improve his situation drastically. But he felt uncomfortable to accept these gifts so simply.

“Why are you helping me?” the Asset wondered

“What do you mean?”

“Everything you have done for me, why are you doing this?”

“I dunno man? I guess I’m just a bit lonely and try to be a good host?” The ghost chuckled softly. “And it’s not like I would use any of this anyway. Deceased people don’t really need to have secret stashes or spare food as we are, you know, dead.”

It was a bit depressing to engage further into this topic. The Soldier did not want to think about it. He decided he wanted to change the subject.

“I would need a mean of locomotion.”

“There must be a bike in the barn, but I don’t know if there’s gas… The car is too old. I don’t think it can be started.”

“I will have a look.” The Soldier swiftly headed toward the door and crossed the courtyard as quickly as he could, to avoid getting too damp. The rain that was still pouring refused to stop trying to drown the world and as practical it was to cover the soldier’s traces, it was not enjoyable to be under it.

Once he opened the barn’s door -that did not even have a lock on it, these farmers were really gullible people- he realized that Clinton did not follow him. In fact, the Soldier could see him hovering above the house’s threshold with an exasperated look on his face.

“I can’t go out of the house. I’m stuck here.” the man explained with annoyance once the Asset had rushed back to him to ask him what was wrong. “I guess I’m linked to it. It’s shitty.”

“So…you just planned on helping me getting away from here, and staying behind?” the Soldier wondered after closing the door behind him.

“I… guess so? I don’t have so many other options…” Clinton softly answered as his shoulders dropped.

“Do you like staying here?” James enquired as tactfully as it could.

The response to this question was obvious, but he did not want to push the man too far.

That was not _right_.

“Not really. But as I told you, I don’t seem to have a choice in the matter” Clinton finally croaked after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Do you want me to find a way to take you out of here?” James’s chest felt too tight now. Knowing that someone who was so friendly and kind towards a hunted bleeding monster turning up to his house was stuck somewhere he could not escape from made the asset screech.

“That’s impossible.”

“But do you _want_ to?”

“That would be great! But it’s impossible!”

The Soldier sighed for a long time, trying to think without losing its patience.

“So, you are here, in this farm lost in the middle of nowhere. But this is not _your_ house.”

“Nope.”

“And you’re stuck inside of it?”

“Yeah, I already told you that!”

The ghost looked more and more peeved and did not seem to be willing to go into the matter, but the Soldier refused to drop the topic this time.

If they wanted to find a solution, James needed to have more details about the situation.

“You also said it belonged to someone in your family?”

“Yes.”

“Clinton, to whom belonged this house?”

The ghost sighted dramatically and leaned on the wall, disappearing through it a little.

“It was my father’s house, okay?! And after that my brother’s.”

“And they are not around anymore?”

“No.” James glared at the ghost until he continued, “they died years ago.”

“I see… And they are not…With you?”

“Did you see them nearby? Nope. They’re gone for real.”

“Did you have… a good relationship with them?” The Soldier was struggling with his words. He wasn’t used to ask people about their feelings, and to encounter so much resistance when demanding an answer. Usually, people tended to tell him everything he wanted to know when they saw him.

Clinton answered with a sarcastic laugh.

“I wouldn’t say so. Quite the opposite in fact. We hadn’t talked for years before they died, and I’m glad about it!”

“So glad about it that you’re stuck here now that you are supposed to be gone.” the soldier stated blankly.

“Yeah, well, it’s personal okay? I didn’t ask you to pry into my business!” the ghost finally shouted before totally disappearing into the wall, leaving the stunted Asset alone in the hallway.

The Soldier did not understand the guy. He was weird. And irritating.

Deciding to move on and not to wait the ghost to calm down, James went back to the barn and found the bike and an old rusty pick-up. He even discovered four spare gas cans in a corner.

The car wasn’t nearly as fucked-up as Clinton had said, and the Asset estimated that after a few hours of maintenance he could get it ready to drive again. James started then to undertake his work and got done with it in three hours and forty-six minutes. The Soldier noticed at the end of his work that he was smiling. He liked fixing things.

At this point, his stomach started rumbling again and he felt somewhat guilty that Clinton got upset after their conversation.

Yet, once he went back to the house, his remorse turned into apprehension as he apperceived the ghost floating in the hallway. Clinton looked scared, sad, relieved and hopeful at the same time and rushed to meet the Soldier as soon as he crosses the threshold.

“Jaaaames! You came back! Oh gosh you came back! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to yell at you!”

The Asset tried to interrupt the babbles, but he could as well have tried to stop a river with bare hands. The ghost looked so distressed. It was disheartening.

“I came back like ten seconds after I left, but you were already gone and I thought about what you told me, so I thought about something keeping me here and maybe I found something by the way, but then you were already gone since a long time and I thought that you were gone forever and that you didn’t tell me goodbye! So I waited but I thought I annoyed you so much you left, and I’m so sorry I made you run away from here! I won’t do that again, I promise!”

“Calm down, calm down!” the Soldier intimated as he was feeling more and more uneasy with the distraught ghost. “I’m not angry or anything, alright doll? Shh, please let me speak. You don’t have to apologize, ‘kay? I’m the one who should apologize, I shouldn’t have pried in your family stories. And I hadn’t the right ta talk to ya the way I did. It wasn’t nice. I’m sorry.”

Clinton stared at him with almost comically wide eyes and somehow became smaller.

“So… we’re good?” the man muttered, still anxious.

“Yeah, we’re good sweet thing. I just went to the barn and fixed the car by the way. The bolide is ready for a ride, if you wanna know. But you said you had an idea to get ya outta this place?”

The ghost blinked a few times before replying with a small voice.

“Yeah… actually there’s a thing. It’s a necklace. It belonged to my mother and I think that if someone took it outside, I could follow it around, you know?”

“That’s amazing! Do ya wanna try?”

“Right now?”

“Why not? There’s no time like the present. And if it doesn’t work out, we’d still have time to find another solution before everything goes to hell. So, where’s your ma’s necklace?”

“It’s upstairs. In my father’s room. Come, I’ll show you.”

The Soldier followed the ghost to the third room. This one was the messiest and the dustiest. No one apparently touched anything there since its occupant died, years and years ago. The lamp was broken and the weak light traversing the window was barely sufficient to see anything, but Clinton was not able to shine in this room. In fact, the man looked smaller and younger than he ever did.

The ghost pointed a drawer where old trinkets were piled up and indicated James a fine silvery chain. Once the Soldier disentangled it from other jewels – which was _not_ easy with his metal hand, that crushed two items in the process- both men went back downstairs, heading for the courtyard –while Clinton’s babbled and attempted to delay the process in pretending that James should first eat something and maybe drink a cup of tea, because it was so late already, maybe they could try tomorrow?

Despite the man’s apprehensive ramblings, the Soldier opened the door and stepped outside, inviting the ghost to join him with a wave of his fleshy hand and a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “It’s alright doll. I understand that it’s difficult to go outside and I won’t push ya if you tell me now that you don’t want to. But you’re not alone. You can leave this house now, I’m with ya. And if this doesn’t work, we’ll just have to find another solution. But you don’t have to wait here alone forever. You just have to try if you want to.”

A singular mix of despair and rage seemed to overwhelm Clinton’s as he heard the Soldier’s word, but his eyes looked suddenly determined as he slowly hovered toward James. He did not lose his grave demeanor until he finally joined him. Then, the man finally burst in relieved laughter and started to shine like a Christmas tree.

“I’m outside! I’m outside! Look! I’m outside! Oh, thanks fuck! I’m outside!” the ghost shouted in flying higher and higher, as if he was trying to reach his limits.

The Soldier could not avoid smiling when the man started acrobatics and playing with the drops of rain that were passing through his body, still yelling that he was free.

“Yeah, you’re outside. That’s amazing, ya right. So, what shall we do now? Wanna go back inside for a bit so that I can get my stuffs back and grab a bit to eat? And then we can go?”

“To Nevada?”

“To Nevada.”

“Hurray! Let’s go to Nevadaaa!” the ghost howled in the falling night.

Still grinning, James went back to the farm and gathered his few possessions. Then, he decided to take one last shower – hot water would _never_ be overrated. Fuck. He _loved_ hot water.

He cautiously put on his dried gears and checked all his weapons before going downstairs in the intention of preparing a last bowl of instant noodles. It felt strange to dress like that again after spending a few days in casual clothes.

As he arrived in the kitchen, he was surprised to be welcomed by a ghost choking on his spectral coffee. Clinton spat a strange greenish fluid all over the table in the process, which was disgusting. Fortunately, it faded away after a few seconds.

“Everything’s alright doll?” the Soldier wondered.

“Yeah, yeah sorry. It’s just your tac suit. I forgot how you look when you’re in serious mode…”

James looked back on his clothing. It was just his black uniform. The one he wore all the time for his missions. But it had to be a little scary for a civilian – or whatever the hell Clinton really was – for sure.

Speaking of scary things, James supposed he had to admit to the ghost who he really was. After all, Clinton offered him a shelter, a way to get out and his trust. It was only justice to tell him what kind of murder machine he was walking – or floating – next to.

Yet, he didn’t really want to tell him that. What if Clinton decided he didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore? What is he decided he preferred to stay in the farm rather than following him around?

James didn’t know why the idea made him so uneasy now, but he grew to be rather keen on the man, and he didn’t want to go alone anymore. For a brief instant, he pictured himself traveling with Clinton. Discovering the world, seeing with his own eyes what he was only told in mission briefing for situational purposes only. Then, he imagined the man’s face realizing how many things James hid to him, and who he really was.

That would not be right. That would be unfair to him. Clinton deserved to _chose_ if he wanted to tag along with him.

The Soldier soldiered on.

“Clinton, I have to tell you something.”

The ghost stopped shining immediately and became depressingly milky.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… didn’t tell ya who I am. And who’s after me.”

Clinton nodded slowly, staring at him with a cautious expectation.

After a long sigh, James continued.

“I…They called me the Winter Soldier. And Hydra’s after me.”

The other man put his cup on the kitchen table with a slow and fluid motion, staring at it for a few seconds, until it disappeared by itself. 

“Does that mean that you’re working with them?” Clinton wondered with a detached voice, floating straighter on his chair.

“No, that’s why I ran away in fact!” the Soldier answered in a rush.

“But you _did_ work with them? Right? Oh Christ, you’re a nazi.” The ghost’s appearance had completely changed. The anxious and joyful man he was a minute ago had totally disappeared and was replaced by someone else. His muscles looked tense and his face as carved in stone. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

“I…Yes… But I didn’t choose it, alright? I had orders and-“fuck. Ft was so difficult to explain.

“You. Had. Orders.” the ghost interrupted with a spiteful tone. “I see. Well, everything is clearer now, you had orders. I think I heard about you, by the way. You were quite famous, I reckon. I should have guessed, I suppose. This explains the arm, but gosh! Most people don’t even believe you exist!” Clinton had now an angry and poisonous tone. “Do you know what my handler told me once? That you were a ghost! Gosh, this is so ironi-“

“Please let me finish! I know, I know I did all these things and I swear I regret them but-“

“You regret them?! Really?! Wonderful.”

“I had no choice!”

“How so?!” Clinton now looked teared apart and so distraught. James just wanted to tell him, to explain him everything, set things right. So, hell, he would just tell him everything.

“They ripped me apart. They froze me and put me in a chair. They used words to reset me… I…had no control. I was like one of these robots okay?!” Now James was shouting, but fuck, how could he explain everything they did to him?

“I don’t know anything, hell, I don’t even know _who_ I am! They called me the Asset and put me in that chair, made me forget things I should not remember. They used… electricity I think? Again, and again, and _again_! And it hurt, so fucking much! And once they were done, I could not even _talk_ anymore! I could just _obey_. And when the mission was over, they put me to sleep again. I told you, I had no choice!”

Once again, Clinton’s face transfigured. A multitude of feelings were crawling to his face, as if in conflict.

But what feelings? The Soldier felt exhausted again. He should go. He could leave Clinton behind, or drop him somewhere he fancied more than this fucking farm, but he wasn’t going to stand pity from him.

Yet, the ghost’s voice stopped him in his track.

“So, what’s the plan?” Clinton asked with hate in his voice. “We go to the safehouse and we run away forever?”

“You don’t have to come with me. I just wanted to let you know what you were involved into. If you prefer to stay, I perfectly understand…” Oh for fucks’ sake! The Soldier’s voice sounded so pathetic!

“Yeah, well. Let’s discard this idea. Like, let’s never talk about this option ever again” Clinton interrupted with anger. You wanna know what I’d prefer?”

“No?” At this instant, James regretted telling the ghost the truth. Having this amount of rage directed at him was… well justified, but it _hurt_. It was more painful than he would have imagined it.

“I’d prefer go to Nevada, get some weapons and hunt these dickbags down. Until the very last. I suggest that we go after them and wreck their face. Get rid off every single one asshole that ever hurt you.”

“What? The hell?”

“Yeah. Let’s smite them. Imagine. I can literally disappear, go inside any building or base or anywhere they’re hiding. Get you intel. And then, you blow them off.”

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Clinton looked so furious. But maybe, just maybe… not against him?

“You… wanna stay with me?” And again, his voice sounded so _bloody sheepish_.

“Yeah… sorry for earlier…” the man seemed abashed for an instant. “I have a problem with nazis. I mean, everyone has a problem with nazis, right? At least, every sane person, I guess. But a friend of mine… she personally dealt with some shit because of them and I…I really hate them. You know what?” Clinton looked up and made a pensive face, as if he was trying to remember his grocery list “I think you shot her once?”

“What?”

“Yeah, but no big deal in fact, it was kind of a happy incident, she got out of the Red Room after that, so no grievance on this side. And the scar is really cool.”

“She survived?”

“Yeah, she’s cool like that. You may remember her? She’s called the Black Widow.”

“The Black Widow? She was your friend? Who are you?”

“She _is_ my friend! Our bond is stronger than stupid little things like death” the man corrected with a smug smile, still tainted with rage though. “And I’m just a handy man with awesome friends. Also, I’m a hell of a sharpshooter if you wanna know. So I think I could be useful in the field, at least to guide you. So, you’re in?”

“But… You don’t… ya know… hate me?”

“Dude, I’m not used to blame the victims.”

James felt overwhelmed with relief and had to fight to a while to recover his calm, before answering.

“Well… I guess it sounds like a good plan, in fact.” Fuck. His voice was still shaking. But a sudden surge to punch his former handlers face was now itching James’s fist. The metal one, to be precise.

“Cool, so let’s feed you and then we’re gone! It’s late. We’re gonna have to travel at night, is that gonna be an issue?”

“Not at all. But, ya sure? Things around me, and around Hydra, they get messy…”

“Dude, I’m dead. They can’t really hurt me now. And I don’t think you’re the kind of guy to stay low for a long time.”

“Alright, but first, noodles.”

And once again, the magic occurred. Clinton started laughing and his body emitted this sweet light around. Somehow, it warmed the Soldier’s insides. And the sensation only increased when the ghost tried to bump his fleshy shoulder and passed through him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They were on the road for five days when the incident happened. (Well, it was more 114 hours than five days, but five days was fine.)

James was sitting on the hood of the banal grey car he stole in the parking lot of the mall they stopped to get some food when it happened.

In fact, Clinton insisted that they stopped twice so that he could rest for a few hours, but the Soldier didn’t like to stay too much time at the same place, so they settled for a compromise and he accepted to eat more substantial food once in a while. And god, pizzas were really worth stopping for twenty minutes.

That’s why they were there, in the middle of a corn field in Wyoming arguing about what music they should listen to as he was eating his last slice of pizza when they heard the sound of roaring engines, piercing through the calm around them.

Instinctively, James jumped to his shot gun and got ready to fire on any attacker coming their way. (Yes, he tried to shield Clinton’s behind him and passed through him in the process. No, he wasn’t going to think about it now. Nor was he going to think about the way the ghost’s eyes had widened when he did that. He would apologize for scaring him later, once they would be done with the pressing danger and far away for _here_.)

747 feet from here, an aircraft with a big A painted on its side was landing and silhouettes were already running out of it before it touched the ground. James breathed out once and aimed to shoot at the first one.

“NOOOOOOOOO” Clinton yelled in running between him and their attackers. What an idiot? Okay, he was not going to get hurt, but you didn’t do that at the beginning of a fight! It was hella distracting!

“It’s a friend! Don’t hurt him!” the ghost continued in yelling. “He’s cool! Really!”

“Clint? That’s you? You’re alive?” a man in a red metal suit asked, before continuing “Cliiiint, I missed you so much! These guys have no humor, let me tell you!”

“Awwww… I missed you too man, it’s good to see your old face.”

“Okay, I don’t miss you anymore.”

“That’s rough!”

“I’m only three years older than you! I’m _not_ old! Come on, here, in my arms asshole!” the man whined before trying to hug Clinton and passing through his body.

“What the hell dude?” another man that had a bird on his shoulder asked. He tried to poke Clinton.

“Dude, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re not tangible anymore.”

“I know, I know… Hey Tones, you know when you asked me if I was alive? Well, I guess not. But let’s not dwell on it, let me introduce me my new friend! James, come here and say hello!”

With slow and careful motions, still clinging to his shotgun, the Soldier came closer to the group. Now, he noticed another man, dressed in a ridiculous blue suit, who was fighting against his tears in looking at Clinton. 

The man turned in James’s direction and started gasping like a dying fish before choking.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

James felt suddenly exhausted. His nerves felt like he was on fire and he really wanted to turn back to the car and run away with Clinton. But looking at the shining ghost right now, it was not really an option.

A woman in a black cat suit exited the aircraft at last, and glared at Clinton.

“You absolute moron. What the hell did you do _this time_?”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“So, let’s sum up one last time”, Steve started.

_Steve_

It was Steve.

Like… His Stevie!

Stevie and his team of superheroes who saved the world three times a week found them thank to a magic thingy that a _sorcerer_ used to identify the source of a sudden surge of _magic_ in Iowa and heading East.

So, Steve was trying to look like a grown up and to hold a debriefing in a room in the _Avengers’ tour_ in New-York. In _2018_.

Meanwhile, the other Avengers were either faking to be attentive (Natasha and Sam almost nailed it), chatting in a poor attempt to be discrete (Bruce was mostly successful, but Thor’s voice was not designed for muttering) or doing something totally unrelated (Tony, Pietro and Wanda were exchanging memes. He could see the reflection of their phones in the window behind them.) Clint, for his part, was doodling on a sheet of paper and holding James’s fleshy hand under the table. That was nice, very nice even.

Who would have guessed that corporeal Clint was touchy? It was a shame that he didn’t shine when he was joyful anymore, but James wasn’t sure he was losing a lot in the exchange… Yeah, let’s not kid. It was really swell to feel the blond man. And to see the color of his eyes too!

When he was a ghost, Clint was only greyish, even when he shone! Now, he had a tanned skin and clearer scars, and his eyes were so blue! So freaking blue!

Also, as the man was deaf now, he had nice purple aids to hear. He had a lot of purple things. It was fine. Purple was perfect with Clint’s carnation, in his humble opinion.

That was a wild ride from the beginning to the end. The Soldier, no James… or Bucky? Whatever. Anyway, he needed time to process all this shit.

“Clint, look at me! I’m talking to you. I said that we had to sum up everything one last time, for the record.” Stevie snapped with his chin high in the air, surely trying to look impressive despite his blue tights. Christ, 100 pounds of muscles and almost a century didn’t change his best friend at all. James almost chuckled and had to focus to keep a straight face.

“Alright, so, correct me if I’m wrong. First you had a mysterious intel about a wizard in the Bronx and you decided to look into it, without telling anyone.”

The archer hummed in approval and moved his head to dodge a knife thrown by Natasha without looking at her.

Clint warned him it would certainly happen, and that it was apparently a proof of affection. He told James he shouldn’t react to it. The Soldier cringed nevertheless and glared at the Widow, who hold her hands in the air in despair.

Steve cleared his throat.

“So, you went there alone, and he threw you a spell that cursed you to “care of unfinished business” as you said. And that’s why you disappeared four months ago.”

Clint nodded with a factice obedient face.

“And last week, Bucky showed up, found a way to get you out of the house before you both decided to go on a vengeful murderous spree on Hydra.”

That time, they both nodded with an innocent smile before ducking to avoid the pens that Natasha was throwing at them. She threw a pen at him too? Did that mean that she accepted him in the group? He had to ask Clint later.

“And after that”, continued Stevie with a jaded tone (as if the guy behaved even _once_ in a meeting with the commando) “we found you because of Strange’s intel, and he turned you back in your normal state. Did I miss something?”

“I don’t think so?” the archer replied, throwing a questioning look at Bucky.

“Also, you couldn’t speak about your real identity, like you couldn’t tell me your name, remember? And also your codename or any of your Avenger’s business for some reason. Strange thinks that it’s because you don’t have anything to clear on that side” added Bucky with his best professor’s tone.

Steve sighted again.

“Did you take care of this “unfinished business” the wizard was talking about?”

“Nope” answered Cling with a smug smile.

“And do you intend to?”

“Certainly not.”

At his words, both Sam and Natasha facepalmed. Once he caught their eyes, he tried to convey in a look that yes, they would find a way to push Clint to take care of himself. Maybe he could accompany Bucky to therapy?

It was more than time to get rid off old ghosts.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of thanks to all the people who organized this event! 
> 
> And thanks to HeyBoy who drawed such a masterpiece for this fic <3


End file.
